


The Death of Knowledge

by DianaNatashaCarter432



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaNatashaCarter432/pseuds/DianaNatashaCarter432
Summary: "Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you."That was the only memory Natasha Romanoff had of her mother. Who knew her mother and father would come back, almost 70 years later, as Lady Britannia and Captain America?She almost wanted to cry. But the Black Widow doesn't weep.(rewrite of the original story)
Relationships: Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Elektra Natchios/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Melinda May & Natasha Romanov, Peggy Carter & Natasha Romanov, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 24
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Red and white with hints of grey. Pure vibranium. As smooth as the day it was first made. Natasha smiled sadly, tears threatening to fall from her stoic eyes. It has been more than twenty years since her husband's death and this was all she had to remember him by. A shield. A pathetic, idiotic shield issued to him during the early days of the Cold War. 

Her wedding ring - gone. Her wedding dress - gone. Her wedding album - gone. Everything she once owned - hell, even everything _he_ once owned was now lost somewhere in Moscow. And now, Natasha had to come to terms with the fact that her new life would never allow her to be connected to her old one. That what she had before would forever be lost. It's gotten easier over the years, but every now and then her stoic foundation would crack. 

Like today. 

Natasha fell back onto the cushions of her couch, holding the shield tightly to her chest. She shouldn't have let Bobbi get to her; normally, it was rather easy to ignore the woman's condescending sneers. However, Natasha had already faced a shitty two weeks in Iran. Her friend dead, her stomach riddled with new bullet holes, and the man who attacked her disappeared into the wind - Natasha had no tolerance to deal with mentions of Bobbi's parents. If the blonde bitch knew the truth, she would realize that her parents were just as evil as Natasha once was…

And it's not like Natasha needed that acknowledgment. Most of the time, in fact, she couldn't care less what the woman - or anyone else for that matter - thought of her. But she wanted to have a somewhat decent relationship with Clint's wife. She wanted to not feel so alone. Yet every month in America felt like a continuous knife to her chest, like she was garbage meant to be thrown. Natasha knew her past had earned her eternal punishment, but this life felt like one worse than any devil could give her. 

_Creek._

Natasha sighed deeply. Of course. The world lived to torment her. 

"Please leave, _Rooskaya_ ," Natasha said emotionlessly, staring at the ceiling as if it were the only thing in the world. "I'm in no mood to play." 

"Who says I came here to play?" 

Natasha didn't smile. "That's all you ever want to do." 

"Come now," came the response. "Even the most predatory spiders can grow into something beautiful." 

"Perhaps," Natasha admitted. "But not you." 

Rosy red lips curled into a grin. "Hmmm..." 

They stood like that for a long time; two spiders waiting out their prey. Neither made a move. Neither dared to strike. It was part of the game. Waiting out your enemy, observing their movements before attempting to go for the kill. Knowledge was power. And power was everything in this world. 

_A world that has brought me nothing but misery_ , Natasha thought. 

"If you're going to kill me," Natasha finally spoke, "could you at least wait until I fall asleep? My life started in misery - it might as well end that way as well." 

Yelena's blue eyes flashed with momentary concern, before quickly being replaced with her own stoic mask. She huffed. "Well isn't this a sight for sore eyes?" she mocked. "The great Black Widow... begging for death...Oh how the mighty have fallen." 

"I think that happened a long time ago," the redhead admitted, voice so soft that the younger woman struggled to hear it. 

"A long time ago?" Yelena said in disbelief. "You were the mightiest warrior in all of the Motherland! Nothing could defeat you!" She eyed Natasha's dirty pajamas. "And now look at you. Just a broken woman clinging to the memory of her dead husband. It's pathetic." 

Normal people would have gotten angry at such a statement, but Natasha saw through such a charade. "It's okay to miss him, you know?" she said, setting the shield to the side and leaning up to face her adversary. It was time to put her own sadness to bay. 

Yelena looked confused. "What?" 

"Alexei," Natasha said, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It's okay to miss him." 

A defensive look - the very same one that Natasha mastered all those years ago. "Miss him? I don't miss him." 

"I can see the sadness in your eyes." 

"I'm not sad." 

Such stoicalness. Natasha felt her heart drop. "Oh, Yelena. You were always such a horrible liar..." 

"I'm no liar!" Yelena snapped. "Alexei Shostakov was killed. End of story." Blue eyes narrowed. "Just like it is with Natalia Romanova." 

"If that were true, then why are you here if not to finally end my life? It seems to have been the only thing on your mind since I defected." 

Silence. Cold, dead silence. 

Abruptly, Yelena turned around and headed back towards Natasha's kitchen window. 

"Until next time, mom," she said, unturning. 

"Mom?" Natasha said, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I thought I was just Romanoff to you." 

Natasha craved a response, a verbal confirmation that the blonde did in fact still care for her - but Yelena refused to say anything else. Her stoic composure on full display, the blonde hopped through the window and vanished down the apartment building's fire escape. It felt like the final blow to Natasha's heart. 

Tears finally falling from the assassin's eyes, Natasha whispered, "I've missed you too." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One: Discoveries**

The Arctic was dreadful during this time of the year. It was currently minus fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, snowing, and windy. Even SHIELD's best winter thermal clothes couldn't fully protect Agent Melinda May from such conditions. Ten minutes into a mile walk, May already felt her body start to betray her. Regret seeped into her. She knew she should have accepted a mission to Tajikistan, rather than travel to the North Pole. She should have listened to her instincts. 

"H-h-how ar-are you not shi-shivering?" May stuttered, arms wrapped tightly around her chest. 

Next to her, Natasha smiled softly. "The Red Room," she explained, pulling May close to give her the extra body heat. She felt bad for one of the few SHIELD agents that never made her feel like shit. "I was taught how to control my body temperature before I could even shoot a gun." 

"So-sounds nice," May said. "You'll hav-have to teach me." 

"Trust me," Natasha muttered, "no one deserves to learn it the way I did." 

The redhead pretended not to notice the sadness in May's eyes. 

There was a long moment of silence. 

"So remind me again why we couldn't have landed the quinjet at the crash site?" May joked, taking away the tension. 

Natasha gave her a half-grin. "If we don't want to be frozen in ice for the next ninety years, then you'll trust my wonderful piloting skills." 

May huffed. "I still say I could have gotten us closer." 

"Coulson disagreed with you," Natasha pointed out. 

Dark eyes rolled. "Coulson knows nothing." 

Natasha laughed. "Funny - he said the same thing about you." 

May playfully smacked her shoulder. 

After another 10 minutes passed, Natasha and May found themselves at the crash site of The Valkyrie. SHIELD agents, medics, scientists, and engineers surrounded the site in warming tents. It was truly a sight to behold; there was no doubt that the ship was of the utmost importance to the international agency. As the only two agents with a level 10 classification, Natasha and May were called to oversee the excavation. 

It was then that Natasha noticed an old man in the middle of one of the warming tents. He looked like a stereotypical fisherman: a small beard, a cap, and overalls. And he was alone. Nodding at May, the two women split off. 

"Are you the fisherman that found the ship?" Natasha questioned, stepping in front of the man. 

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I didn't think...I didn't think it would be that ship when I saw it. I thought..." he trailed off. "Oh, I don't know what I thought! But then I saw a hole and I went inside! And-and I saw them!" The man's voice was filled with excitement now. "It was them! It really was them!" 

"Did you tell anyone else about this?" Natasha questioned. 

The old man shook his head. "No," he said, scratching his head. "I, uh, figured it would be a national security issue?"

"It is," Natasha confirmed. 

The man - for the life of her, Natasha couldn't remember his name - shifted. Whether it was out of discomfort or curiosity, Natasha couldn't tell. "I heard stories about them when I was younger, you know?" he continued. "Who hasn't? But...seeing them...right in front of you...that's something else." 

Natasha eyed him curiously. "I can imagine." 

"My grandfather fought with them during the war," he said. "He was convinced that they were still out there, that they were still alive - even till the end." His sad lips curled into a happy smile. "Turns out he was right." 

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, only for May to exit the decimated ship with two SHIELD agents behind her. May stopped and waved her over, but the two agents continued to head forward. They were the ones that would "take care" of the old man she was speaking with, Natasha realized with a sigh. She knew the man would do no harm - but SHIELD would never take that chance. 

"They're going to make sure I forget this, aren't they?" the old man too realized. 

Natasha nodded. "I'm sorry." She really was. 

"It's okay." He gave her a soft smile. "At least I got to remember this for a little while." 

With that, the two agents grabbed the man by his shoulders and began pulling him towards the very ship that brought Natasha and May to the site. Natasha instinctively moved to go after them; she never liked messing with the minds of old men. However, a soft hand pulled her back. 

"Don't," May whispered. 

"But-" 

It could go wrong. He could forget _everything_. Oh, how Natasha wanted to scream it to the world. But a sharp look from the Asian girl silenced all of Natasha's protests. 

"Let's go," May urged. 

Natasha inclined her head in surrender. 

Following May, Natasha was taken into the battered ship. In the back of it, a group of SHIELD scientists worked to carefully extract the tesseract from a block of ice. Lanterns illuminated around them to aid their work. Going further in, the women finally found themselves in the middle of the cockpit. And there lied what brought Natasha and May here: the frozen bodies of Lady Britannia and Captain America. 

"I ran their vitals," May revealed. "The old man was right - they are still alive." 

_"Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you."_

Natasha shook her head, raising her flashlight to see every inch of the frozen body of Lady Britannia. "Unbelievable." 

!"!

Natasha watched as Coulson led a team of medics and scientists to carefully extract the frozen husband and wife from the large slab of ice. They looked rather peaceful, Natasha noted. Peggy Carter's eyes stared longingly at the face of her husband, while Steve Rogers held his wife as tightly as he could. They were clearly in love. However, there was a deep sadness in their eyes - like they were missing something. 

"May," Coulson said, turning to the Asian woman, "Prep the ship for transport. We need to take them to The Triskelion as soon as possible." 

May nodded, ready to leave when-

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Natasha spoke up. 

A few of the agents around them looked at her in contempt.

"They've been iced for decades now," Natasha continued, unfazed. "Who knows what their mental states will be when they're awakened." 

"That's why we have you," Coulson said, officially ending the conversation. He looked back at May. "Get _The Red Rose_ ready." 

May inclined her head and left the ship's remnants, silently cursing in Mandarin about the cold. 

Natasha sighed deeply, too distressed to be amused by May's antics. She has personally witnessed what such trauma could do to people. She's _seen_ how angry, how unpredictable men just like Rogers and Carter could get. Nick Fury would be on her side. But why didn't SHIELD as a whole understand that? Why couldn't SHIELD truly trust her judgement? She's been with them for five years now. How much more does she have to give? 

!"!

Natasha watched silently as Coulson pulled forward the floating slab that carried the unconscious Rogers and Carter. For the life of her, she couldn't take her eyes off Carter. Ruby red lips, dark brown hair, perfectly shaped eyebrows, an oval face, and pale English skin; she was the epitome of British beauty. And Natasha knew her - and not from the grainy photographs that defined the early 1900s. 

Logically, Natasha knew that it was impossible. After all, the two had never gone to the Soviet Union during their time fighting in the First World War. Not only that, but Natasha was born several months after they went missing. Still, though, her happy face kept echoing through the Russian's head. 

_"Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you."_

Natasha tried to ignore the strange feeling in her head. After she went through SHIELD's de-brainwashing program, such echoes in her head were common. However, this one has gotten louder and louder as time continued. In fact, it was currently screaming inside her head. 

Natasha's hand clenched. Silence, she commanded the voice. 

But it refused to cooperate. 

Before Natasha's anger could rise, her and Coulson suddenly found themselves back at _The Red Rose_. May stood at the boarding ramp, watching them. "All ready," she announced, hopping down to help Coulson bring the two super soldiers into the ship. 

"You two stay in the back with them," Coulson commanded. "I'll bring us back." 

"Sir, I would really rather-" 

Coulson silenced Natasha with a raise of his hand. "You were worried about their mental states, were you not?" he pointed out. "Well...you will be there to subdue them if they awaken." 

!"!

_Little baby hands grabbed a pretty face._

_"Mommy loves you," the woman said, planting soft kisses on the baby's face. "Daddy loves you."_

_A soft baby giggle echoed through the air._

"Natasha?" 

The redhead blinked, continuing to look at the infamous Lady Britannia. "Hmmm?" 

Dark eyes scrunched in concern. "Are you alright?" 

Natasha pursed her lips, realizing that her leg was bouncing nervously. "What do you think they thought about when it happened?" 

"What?" 

"When they crashed," Natasha said. "What do you think they were thinking about?" 

May was clearly confused, but decided to muse the other woman. "Um, probably their daughter, I suppose," she said. "Aria - that was her name, right?" 

Natasha nodded absentmindedly. "Do you think they would have left if they knew what would happen to her?" 

May was silent for a surprising amount of time. Natasha looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "I don't know," May finally admit. "They were soldiers, you know? A kidnapped child is never a good thing - especially if it's your own. But...they saved the world. No one else at the time could have done what they did. Absolutely no one. And, as awful as it sounds, sacrificing the life of a child for such an ending was worth it." 

The rest of the plane ride was silent after that. 

!"!

After ensuring that Rogers and Carter were safely secured in a medical facility, Natasha slipped out of the growing crowd of onlookers and made her way through the busy halls of the Triskelion. Whether young or old, whether inexperienced or experienced, the halls were abuzz with the news of Lady Britannia and Captain America's discovery. Natasha tried to block it out, but everyone was talking about it. A few daring agents even attempted to ask Natasha what they looked like, how they appeared after decades frozen in ice. 

Natasha wanted to blow her own brains out. _Americans_ , she thought critically. It would seem that gossip wasn't just for young school girls. 

Normally, Natasha wouldn't care. But the day was far from normal. The voice, Natasha continued to hear, kept urging her to remain by the couple's side. She wanted them to see her when they woke up. She wanted to watch them as they looked over her in amazement and smiled at the sight of who she's become. It was stupid and idiotic - and so American. However, the thoughts continued despite herself. 

And so Natasha decided to go to the one person she trusted most. He would be able to help her sort out this mess. Most importantly, though, he would be able to sort out the mess that was in her head. He always seemed to know Natasha better than she knew herself. 

So focused on her thoughts, Natasha didn't even notice that she wandered onto a private training facility. 

_Whoosk!_

Natasha felt the breeze of an arrow zip past her face and hit a nearby target. 

"Hey!" Natasha shouted. "Watch it!" 

At the top of a balcony overlooking the targets, Clint Barton peaked over. "Sorry, Tasha," he laughed. "You know this is my hunting ground." 

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "The hawk should get his eyes fixed if he thought me to be a target." 

Clint wiggled his eyebrows. "To be fair, you once were," he joked. 

No one but Clint would be able to get away with such a joke. 

Natasha felt a hint of a smile creep onto her face. "Get down here, bird man." 

Clint tilted his head, noticing that her smile didn't quite meet her eyes. In an instant, he ziplined down to the ground. "It's been a while, firecracker." 

"Firecracker?" 

"Hey, if I'm bird man, you have to get a stupid nickname too." 

Finally, Natasha's eyes shined with mirth. "You're impossible." 

Clint winked. "But you love me anyway." 

"I do," Natasha admitted.

Clint smiled softly. But he soon felt his smile disappear as Natasha's vanished as well. "What's going on?" he questioned. It wasn't often that he saw Natasha so disconnected from her surroundings. 

"I need your help." 

Clint frowned. Natasha had a higher ranking with SHIELD than he did. What could he possibly do that she couldn't? 

On cue, Natasha dug through her utility belt and pulled out two vials of blood with her left hand and another vial with her right. "I need you to run my blood," she said, raising her right hand, "against the other two." 

"What? Why would-?" 

Clint felt his lips go silent. Those eyes. Those fearful, sad green eyes. It wasn't often that Natasha allowed herself to be vulnerable, but Clint managed to get it out of her occasionally. When he did, Clint felt like one of the luckiest guys in the world. Now, however, he just felt sad for his best friend. He knew exactly what she feared. And she didn't know how to handle it. 

Clint looked at her sadly. "Tasha-" 

"What if the Soviets got the Superhuman serum not _in spite_ of Aria Rogers' kidnapping, but _because_ of it?" 

"Tasha-" 

"What if-what if everything about my life is a giant lie?" 

"Tasha-" 

"I didn't want to believe it when I started having those visions, those flashbacks - whatever you want to call it. But then I saw them. And everything suddenly felt so clear and-" 

"Tasha!" 

Natasha went silent, looking at the blond man with tears. 

Clint grabbed Natasha by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. "I got this." 

!"!

Laying in a small bed, Steve Rogers looked paler and thinner than he had in years...but alive. After an eternity, his blue eyes finally flickered open. There was an old glass light fixture on the white ceiling. He sat up and found that he was in the middle of an early 1900s-styled room. The sun shined through a set of white curtains. A Dodgers game plays on an old vacuum tube radio on a wooden dresser.

“Workman up for the Phillies, now. Holding that big club down at the end. He sets, Pfeffer pitches. Curveball, outside. Ball one," the Radio Announcer said. 

Steve slid his bare feet to the worn, wooden floor, a deep frown on his face. Something about this whole setup wasn't right...

Steve looked over to the side and found Peggy unconscious on a similar bed as his. Stumbling slightly from muscle atrophy, Steve went over to the bed and gently shook her body. "Peggy," he murmured repeatedly. "Wake up." She donned a similar military-issue pants and white t-shirt. However, the outfit didn't _feel_ like it was supposed to. 

Peggy quickly began to groan, attempting to slap Steve's hand away as she enjoyed her slumber.

Steve rolled his eyes and shook her harder. "Peggy!" 

Peggy's dark eyes snapped open with rage, only for it to vanish in an instant. Snapping out of the soft bed, Peggy looked around the room in utter confusion. Her eyes screamed: how on earth did we end up here? Steve had no words for her, though; he was just as confused as she was. In fact, Steve was more, more than anything, stunned by the fact that they were still alive. He was certain that the plane crash would be the end of them. 

"Where are we?" Peggy questioned, stepping up. 

"I have no idea," Steve responded, looking around apprehensively. 

As if on cue, an SSR agent opened the door to the room. "Hello there," the woman said. "Good afternoon." 

Peggy and Steve exchanged a look. 

"I don't...remember going to sleep," Steve said. 

"Well, it was quite a while ago," the agent responded. 

Peggy and Steve exchanged another look. 

“So the Dodgers are ahead eight to five. And Pfeffer knows one swing of the bat and this fella’s capable of making it a brand new game," the radio announcer continued. 

Steve eyed the radio. He takes a long look at the SSR agent. "How long have my wife and I been out?"

“Outfield deep, round toward left, the infield overshifted."

The woman shifted uncomfortably. "I’m afraid I couldn’t say," she claimed. 

Steve felt his anger grow. The baseball game was from months before he and Peggy were entrapped in ice. He remembered watching it in stadiums with Peggy while she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy. Not only that, but the woman was clearly of German descent: very distinct pale skin, light blonde hair, a slightly freckled face, a broad nose, broad shoulders, and a full full chest. Had the Germans captured them? 

Judging by the look on Peggy's face, Steve knew he was not the only one that had come to such a conclusion. 

Peggy nodded at him. 

With lightning speed, Peggy grabbed the woman by her arm and twisted it. 

The woman grunted in pain. "Mrs. Carter, please!" 

"Who are you!?" Peggy growled, eyeing the phony uniform. "Who are you really!? And how do you know our names!?" 

"We know all about you," she grumbled. 

Just then, a group of large men with strangely futuristic clothing rushed into the room. The middle men held out sets of restraints for the couple, while the men on the sides held electric batons in their hands. 

“Here’s the pitch from Pfeffer...”

Peggy let go of the now-frightened woman with a glare. Stepping next to her husband, she watched as the armed men inched closer and closer to them. 

“Swung on, belted, it’s a long one, deep into left center, back goes Galan. Back, back, back...”

Peggy sent her husband her signature smirk. 

!"!

"I'm sorry," Clint said. Because what else could you say? 

100 percent. That's what the test results officially indicated well over half a dozen times. Natasha's blood was an 100 percent match for Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter. Natasha was their daughter. Natasha was in fact Aria Rogers, the little toddler whisked away from her grandparents' home in England. She would laugh at the stupidity of the situation, if it weren't so fucked up. 

Natasha rested her head on her knees. "It's not your fault," she murmured. 

Clint sighed and sat down next to her. "What are you doing to do?" 

"I don't know," Natasha admitted. Her head tilted sideways, so her red-shot eyes faced Clint. "Did anyone follow you?" 

"No. All clear." 

"Good." Natasha wasn't ready to talk about this with Fury. Hell, she was barely ready to talk about it with Clint. 

"I can't imagine how hard this is for you-" 

"No," Natasha agreed. "You can't." 

Clint's eyes flashed with a brief moment of irritation. "But I'm here for you, if you need me." He playfully bumped her shoulder. "Even if you are a giant pain in my ass." 

Natasha looked at Clint curiously. Pain in the ass? Is that really what Clint thought of her? She never meant to act that way. Maybe, in the beginning when they hardly knew each other; years have passed since then. Was it because she didn't like opening up? She knew Americans were quite fond of _feelings_ , but that just wasn't her. Russians were more of a bottle emotions up until they explode kind of people. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Natasha grumbled something in Russian and checked her coms. "What!?" she yelled into her phone. 

Coulson's calm voice came through. "We have a problem." 

!"!

"Halt!" 

A group of men and women donning black uniforms with a "SHIELD" insignia attempted to stop Steve and Peggy, but a few simple maneuvers made them go flying through windows and onto the busy streets outside. 

Another large group of men appeared out of the hallways and darted toward them. 

"Carter! Rogers! Stop!" they shouted. 

The couple paid them no attention. They burst through the door. They took a few steps in the streets...then stopped. 

There were futuristic cars roaring in the streets, towering plasma billboards playing moving ads to the streets, people with iPhones to their ears, strange little machines flying in the air. They staggered, confused. What the hell was this? This wasn't Germany. No, this place was something else entirely. 

Clearly noting their confusion, the men chasing them stopped. 

An Asian woman stepped forward. She had a badge on her hip that read "Melinda May". 

"Rogers, Carter," this Agent May started. "This isn't what you think it is. You need to come with us." 

Fuck that. 

In an instant, Peggy and Steve took off through the crowd. They could deal with a lot of things; death, mystical relics, soldiers being relentlessly murdered - but this was just too much. This wasn't their world. This was a dystopia that they wanted out of. 

"Agent Carter!" a new female voice called out. "Captain Rogers! Stop!"

They briefly looked back to see a woman in a skin-tight black suit with flowing red hair chasing the two of them down. She had two pistols strapped to her waist. That's not worried them, though. No, it was the fact that the redhead was able to keep up with them despite their enhanced genetics. In fact, she appeared to be catching up with them at a remarkable pace. 

With an extra burst of speed, husband and wife pushed through the confused bystanders. 

Natasha growled. They just _had_ to make her life more difficult than it already was. Growling, she got a little more violent with her pushes through the crowd and took out her pistol. "Move!" she screamed at the idiots who got in her way. She needed to catch them. Natasha wasn't letting them get away. 

Natasha raised her pistol and three times. 

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

The shockwaves echoed throughout the streets and caused a mass panic. However, the brief moment of shock allowed Natasha to rush forward and tackle Steve to the ground. Instantly, Natasha felt his body resist her attempts to calm him. While Steve was physically stronger, Natasha was far more skilled. All too easily, she managed to twist her body in a way that allowed her legs to be wrapped around his neck. And when Peggy attempted to come to Steve's rescue, Natasha twisted her body one more time so her legs were wrapped around Peggy's neck and her arms were tightly squeezing Steve's neck. 

"Look up!" Natasha screamed, as they struggled against her. She wouldn't last long against them both. "Look up!" 

The two continued to fight her hold. 

"You stubborn, assholes!" Natasha shrieked, her grip around Steve's neck loosening. "Look up!" 

She felt Steve's fight against her stop. He looked up at the Empire State Building in absolute amazement. They were in New York City, he realized, in absolute disbelief. They were in New York...just not their New York City. 

"Peggy," he gasped. 

At last, Peggy relented and calmed. Looking at the sky, she found the Empire State Building towering over them. 

"What the hell is going on?" Peggy breathed out. 

Sensing their newfound calmness, Natasha released them from her grip. Gently, she helped them off the ground as they looked around New York City. The new, modernized New York City. Natasha was sure that it was quite an adjustment. Natasha herself may be over 90 years old, but she was allowed to adjust to the changing times as they came around; Steve and Peggy didn't have that privilege. And so Natasha stayed silent, allowing themselves a moment to wrap their heads around their new surroundings. 

"Soldiers," came a sudden voice. 

They all turned to see Nick Fury walking towards them, flanked by several SHIELD agents (Clint included). 

"Who are you?" Steve questioned. And Natasha knew in that moment that this adjustment would be easier for Steve than it would be for Peggy. 

"Colonel Fury, Director Shield," Fury explained. "You would have known us as the Special Scientific Reserve." 

Steve's eyes narrowed. Despite this, Natasha could tell that he was reassured by the mention of Peggy's old agency. 

Peggy, on the other hand, continued to look around in despair. She knew the older woman had figured out exactly what was going on. And Natasha had a strange feeling that she knew precisely what was on Peggy's mind, for the woman looked on the verge of tears. 

"Sorry about that little show back there. See, there’s no precedent for what you’ve been through. We couldn’t tell how delicate your mental state might be," Fury apologized. "We thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what?" Steve growled. Denial, Natasha recognized. 

"You’ve been asleep, Captain," Fury revealed. "For over 90 years."

Steve looked around, stunned. "Ninety…the World of the Future." 

Fury gave him a reassuring smile. "Thanks to you and Agent Carter, there is one." 

Steve looked back at his wife and found that she truly was breaking down. He moved to comfort her, but she pushed him away. Natasha shifted uncomfortably at the sight. She wanted to say something, but her mouth refused to open. Her heart pounded against her chest. 

Steve turned back to Fury with a sigh. "What about the war? Did we win?"

"Hell, yes," Fury said. "Unconditional surrender, baby. And taking down HYDRA was a big part of that. The world truly owes you and Agent Carter a lot." 

Another moment of silence. 

Steve shifted. "How are we...not dead?"

"To be perfectly honest, we’re not sure yet," Fury admitted. "My docs day it’s some kind of suspended animation. Dr. Erskine’s formula, the extreme cold...I can’t break it down for you on a cellular level, but you haven’t aged a day since that plane went down."

"How is that-?" 

"Aria!" Peggy interrupted, tears falling. "What happened to Aria!?" 

Tell them, a voice in Natasha's head screamed. Tell them the truth. They deserve to know the truth. You're their daughter for heaven's sake! How would you feel if Yelena was taken from you? But another voice screamed for her to stay silent. They abandoned her to fight in a dreadful war. They lost all right to know about her life. 

_...Would they even want to know me? A cold-blooded Russian assassin?_

"She's dead," Natasha blurted out before Fury could respond. She could feel Clint's surprised eyes bear into her back. "She was kidnapped a little over a year after you vanished. I'm sorry." 

_Coward._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two: Aftermath**

_"Gather 'round ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while  
And harken to me mournful tale about the Emerald Isle  
Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone  
And lift our voices in another Irish drinkin' song" _

In a quiet corner of a Russian-owned bar in Hells Kitchen, Natasha listens to a group of drunk Irish tourists sing from the top of their lungs. At first she wanted to bash their heads in at the sound of their wretched voices, but a bottle of vodka made them more bearable. It did nothing to her and yet it did absolutely everything she could ever need. It was a strange conundrum that she took every opportunity to enjoy. Especially now. 

_"Consumption took me mother and me father got the pox  
Me brother drank the whiskey 'till he wound up in a box  
Me other brother in the troubles met with his demise  
Me sister has forever closed her smilin' Irish eyes" _

She hadn't wanted to blatantly lie to her...parents, Natasha spit in her mind. However, every natural instinct in her body told her to do so. They threw her away to fight in a war; they never wanted her. Why should she care about them? Natasha was doing just fine on her own. And yet the strange feeling of guilt kept creeping into her heart...but, then again, she's felt that a lot since defecting to America. The Americans had a strange way of making people feel bad about themselves. 

_"Now everybody's died, so until our tears are dried  
We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we'll drink some more  
We'll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light  
Then we'll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again" _

Despite herself, Natasha's tight lips curled into a half-smile. The Irish, on the other hand, were god's gift to the world. Those people could make anyone's frown turn upside down. The fact that the redhead was now smiling despite how shitty she felt was proof of that. 

"Viktor!" she called out, laughing. 

The owner of the bar, and current bartender, scurried over to the redhead. "What's up, Natalia?" he asked in a thick Russian accent. 

"I think it's official, my friend: you have to hire those Irishmen to sing here every night," Natasha said. "They truly know how to lift the atmosphere." 

Viktor looked at her skeptically. He was never fond of the Irish. "What?" 

"Come now, even you have to admit that they'd bring in more revenue than those shitty folk songs you play." 

Viktor laughed. "Hey! It was just last week that you were singing Katyusha from the top of your lungs!" 

Natasha half-heartedly shrugged. "We all have our weak moments." 

"You've had quite a few weak moments then," he chuckled. 

Natasha smirked, shifting her weight on her chair so she was leaning back. "Hey, I'm just trying to look out for your business." 

"You're making fun of me is what you're doing!" 

"You make it too easy." 

"Screw you, Romanoff," Viktor continued to laugh as he made his way back to the bar table. 

Natasha grinned at the sight. 

"Natasha?" came a tight voice. 

And just like that, Natasha's happy mojo vanished in the wind. The world just had to send her the one Irish man that she never wanted to see again. 

Grumpily turning around, she saw Matt Murdock heading in her direction. He donned a fancy, dark suit and his dark hair was newly cropped. With that alone, passerbyers would consider him to fit the bill as one of the top lawyers in New York City. However, behind his darkened glasses, Natasha spotted a rather large black eye peeking out. He had clearly gotten into a fight quite recently. Saving a kidnapped puppy, perhaps, Natasha thought. 

"Matthew," she grumbled in greeting, turning back to pour more vodka into her glass.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked. Much to Natasha's chagrin, he took a seat next to her. 

"What's it to you?" Natasha said, hostility in her tone. 

Matt frowned. "Just concerned is all." 

"Oh, there's no need to be concerned about me. I'm just playing a game I invented when I moved to America.," she said, lifting her shot glass. "I drink every time I'm sad. It's fun. You should try it." 

Matt frowned, as Natasha gulped down the shot in an instant. "That game already exists - it's called alcoholism." 

Natasha pursed her lips. "For the average person, perhaps. But I'm not exactly average, now am I?" 

"No," Matthew agreed, in more ways than one. "You never were." 

There was a long moment of silence. 

"What happened to your hand?" Matt eventually spoke.

"Huh?" Natasha said. She looked down and saw the old, slightly puffed, pinkish scar that marked the top of her right hand. "Oh! This. Yeah...I, uh...met your ex." 

Matt's face warped into a mixture of surprise, anger, and confusion. "You fought Elektra!?" 

Green eyes rolled. Yes, Natasha was almost certainly going to need more alcohol for this conversation. If there was anything that set Matt off, it was the mention of his precious Elektra. Grabbing the entire bottle, Natasha gulped down half the bottle in less than 10 seconds. The newfound feeling of euphoria didn't make her any less irritated, but she did find herself more willing to converse about one of the many scars that marked their relationship. 

Matt's brown eyes twitched in frustration. "Natasha, when the hell did that happen!?" 

Natasha held up her index finger in a command to silence. She drank another quarter of the bottle in moments. 

"Natasha!" 

She set her bottle down on the table. "Three months ago," Natasha muttered, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Was Matthew always this dramatic? Or had she just missed it when they were together? 

"Well-well-well what the hell happened!?" 

Natasha gave him a mocking smirk. "Awww, how sweet....still in love with her, are you?" 

Matt responded with a hardened look. "Natasha." 

Natasha huffed and took yet another sip of her drink. "The fucking ninja was right," the redhead muttered. It was in times like this that she truly wished that she had the ability to get drunk. "You really are no fun." 

His face turned into a silent plea. 

Natasha bit her tounge at the sight. "It was in Germany," she said. "Went to protect a defector from Iran. But I got there a little too late." 

"Is she-is she-?" 

"Dead? No, don't worry. She managed to flee after impaling my fucking hand." Natasha scoffed. "Never thought I'd be attacked with a sword in this day and age." She took a sip of her drink again. "Guess we learn something new every day." 

Matt swallowed. "But she's-" 

"She's fine!" Natasha snapped. " _Elektra_ ," Natasha exaggerated her name, "is fine!" 

"Good," Matt sighed. 

Natasha scoffed. "Thanks for your concern about me."

"I never said I wasn't." 

"You have a funny way of showing it." 

"What would you have me do?" Matt questioned. "Hug you tightly and cry about how I feared for your life? If you don't recall, that never really worked when we were together." 

"Oh, you don't need to remind me about that period of my life," Natasha growled lowly. 

Matt's face twisted. "You still blame me for the way things ended?" He couldn't believe this. 

Natasha shrugged her shoulders. "Well, considering you were the one that ended things, then yes." She smirked. "Yes, I am." 

His fist clenched. Finally, his calm exterior was crumbling. "What was I supposed to do, Nat? Tell me what I was supposed to do!" Matt exclaimed. "You acted like this every other day of our relationship. And when I asked what was wrong, you'd just get angry. I was sick of it." 

"Like this?" Natasha snarled. 

"Just...cold," Matt finally said. He had the audacity to look as if it were painful for him to say.

Natasha looked up at the roof, smiling to herself. "There it is," she breathed out. "Tell it to the world! I'm the emotionless Russian bitch that's come to ruin everyone's day!" 

"I'm sorry," Matt said, the anger vanishing from his tone. "I get that you work for SHIELD and have to do certain things I wouldn't, but I saw what it really meant...all the death that surrounded you...It was just too much for me. I'm sorry. I tried to understand you, but I couldn't handle it anymore." 

"Ahh...So it wasn't so much that I was an emotionless bitch, but that I kill without an ounce of hesitation?" Natasha said as if it were a question. But then a mocking smile made its way on to her face. "Huh," she muttered. "Why does that sound familiar?" 

Matt was floored. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Natasha laughed. "What's that supposed to mean!? Come on, Matthew - you're smarter than this! Don't you see? YOU HAVE A TYPE! Elektra? Me? We're exactly the same!"

Matt frowned, his mind going a million miles an hour. 

"Oh my god! You never noticed it!?" Natasha gave him a toothy grin. This was just too good. "We're killers, Matthew! She may kill for money and I for loyalty, but we're one and the same." 

She could see the conflict her words were bringing in the younger man and Natasha took great joy in it. "You want to know what the real problem was in our relationship? The real issue? I tell you right now...You like to save people," Natasha said. "And that's great for your line of work. Truly, it is. It's a quality I always admired about you. But here's the issue with that: Elektra and I didn't need to be saved. We never have. We are who we are. And who we are is who we always will be. And while I can't speak for Elektra on this matter, I can speak for myself when I say that I was looking for a partner in you - not a savior." 

Finally, Matt opened his mouth to respond when-

Viktor walked up with a bill in his hand. "Вот чек," he said to Natasha, eyeing Matt. Viktor didn't like it when men went over to Natasha and upset her. He owed her a lot; the least he could do to repay her is ensure she had a good time at his bar. 

Natasha smiled gratefully at the man. This was her ticket out of the conversation. "Спасибо, Виктор," she said, handing him an 100 dollar bill. "Увидимся на следующей неделе."

The handsome blond man grinned. "В то же время?"

"Конечно."

"Хорошо! У меня есть пара парней, которые очень хотят с тобой познакомиться."

Natasha pat his shoulder. "Я с нетерпением жду этого."

The two were halted from further conversation at the feeling of Matt's eyes bearing into them. 

"What!?" Viktor snapped. 

"You two know each other?" Matt questioned. He's been going to this bar for years now, and he never knew his ex and the owner were friends with one another. 

Viktor was growing increasingly agitated. "Yeah. So what?" 

"I got him out of a tricky situation in Russia," Natasha added. "Brought him here for his safety." 

"Huh." 

Natasha eyed Matt. "What? Did you think I came here in hopes of running into you?" 

The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. 

Scoffing, Natasha headed towards the exit. "Look at Matthew," she mocked. "Saving the damsel in distress again." Pausing at the door, she turned back to him one more time. "I never needed you, Matt. Fuck you for ever thinking I did." 

With that, Natasha slammed the door behind her and disappeared from view. 

By then, the Irishmen stopped singing and stared at the blind man left in the redhead's wake. 

Viktor glared at Matt. "Out!" he shouted. 

Matt blinked behind his glasses. "What?" 

"You upset my best customer!" Viktor exclaimed. "Get out - and don't come back again!" 

!"!

"Here's your new apartment," Clint said. "I know it's not much, but...we figured that you guys would want to lay low for a little while." 

Clint watched as Steve and Peggy walked around the small apartment in central New York. There was a spacey kitchen with a dining table to the side. In front of the kitchen was the living room, with a 62-inch flat screen television, a large blue couch, and a wooden table in front of the couch. A fully-furnished office sat next to the bed room. Clint had to admit that the simple set up was nicer than his and Bobbie's place. And yet neither one of them seemed fully happy with their new home. 

Because it's not their home, a familiar voice in Clint's head said. 

Clint had seen Natasha struggle to adapt to life in America. For nearly 90 years, she had a life in Moscow; the sudden shift in scenery clearly had an impact on her. Natasha didn't know it, but Clint knew how she would spend time at Russian bars, watch nothing but Russian shows, attempt to half-heartedly befriend Russian people in Little Ukraine, and even dance ballet at a local Bolshoi Theatre in New York. Despite all the horrible things Russia had done to her, she missed the country far more than she was willing to let on. Because it was her home. Because it held her heart. Because that's where her family was....where Yelena was. Like how the 1918 would be the home of Aria Rogers. 

Clint shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the panging feeling in his heart. Peggy still had silent tears running down her eyes. And although Steve was yet to show such emotion, Clint knew he was only trying to be strong for Peggy's sake. They had won the war, but lost their daughter and everything else they knew. Clint shouldn't care much about it - but he did. His friendship with Natasha forced him to at least somewhat care about their situation, and Clint, despite Natasha's decision, was struggling not to tell them _everything_ about what their situation entailed. 

"The rent for the next five years has been paid for," Clint blurted out. "There's several sets of new clothes in your closets as well. Really, anything you need should be here. If not, you can always call the Director and we'll be happy to-" 

Steve set a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing the babbling younger blond man. "Thank you, Agent Barton." 

Clint smiled stiffly. "Of course." 

_I'll help you file your taxes but I won't tell you about your living daughter_ , Clint thought angrily to himself. But the image of a crying Natasha kept popping into his head. She was so sad, so angry, so confused about the situation. Him getting involved wouldn't fix how she felt; in fact, outside influence has only irritated Natasha in the past. Clint, however, had thought that the redhead would be willing to talk with the super soldiers outside of SHIELD grounds for that very reason - only they would be able to help her. And now Clint felt stuck in the middle, for Natasha had forced him into a situation that he had no part of. 

"Are you guys going to be okay?" 

"Not really," Steve said. Clint was amazed at the masterful stoic look, but his years working with Natasha had enabled him to look through such masks. "But we'll survive...as we always have." 

_Like Natasha always has..._

"If you need anything," Clint said in closing. 

Steve nodded and led him out the door. But then-

"Who was the redheaded woman?" Peggy questioned. Clint looked at her. The woman's tear-stained eyes were long gone, instead now filled with suspicion. "She was as strong as Steve and I were." 

Clint shifted. "The Soviets got their hands on the Superhuman Serum early in the Cold War. They made their own sets of super soldiers. Agent Romanoff was one of them." 

"Was she?" There was a harshness in her tone. Or was it accusatory? 

Steve seemed surprised by Peggy's tone as much as Clint was. 

_She knows something is off._

Clint decided to take his leave. "If you need anything," he said again, and quickly made his way through the door and shut it tightly behind him. 

Natasha was going to be the death of him. 

!"!

When Natasha walked out of her shower with a mere towel wrapped around herself, she certainly didn't expect to see Clint standing in the middle of her living room. 

"Nat," he grumbled. He looked visibly angry. 

But Natasha was angry too. 

"Fuck, Barton!" she hissed. "Don't you knock?" 

"What the hell happened back there?" Clint demanded. 

Natasha played dumb. "What do you mean?" 

"Your parents," Clint growled, not in the mood for such an act. "Why didn't you tell them the truth?" 

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "The truth?" 

"You're alive, Nat!" Clint exclaimed. "They deserve to know the truth!" 

"You're the one that said you'd back me no matter my decision!" 

"I meant with Fury! With SHIELD! Telling all of them!" Clint exclaimed. "You're heritage is your own, but-" 

"Exactly," Natasha snarled. "My own. So butt out of it." 

"I can't!" Clint exclaimed. "They're your parents, Nat!"

"I'm sorry, but don't you have a brother that you haven't spoken to in years?" 

Clint's blue eyes scrunched in frustration. "Nat," he started, "I gave my brother chance after chance. He failed every time on his own. But you...you're not even giving them a chance to fail. And I had to watch Carter cry because of it!" 

"I don't care," Natasha said, more to herself than to Clint. 

Clint's face fell, the anger vanishing. He lost his parents long ago and regretted not spending more time with them; he didn't want Natasha to make that same mistake. "They're your parents, Nat." 

"No!" Natasha screamed, adamantly shaking her index finger. She struggled to keep herself from breaking down again. "My parents...my parents are dead..." 

It was official: Clint would never fully understand Natasha. Loyalty to a country that screwed you is something Clint could understand. After all, the government and people are two very distinct differences in Russia. However, loyalty to the people who were directly responsible for bringing about such darkness is an entirely different thing that Clint would never understand. How could Natasha still love such beings? People who kidnapped her from her family? People who tortured her all throughout her childhood? People who subjected her to brainwashing to ensure her loyalty to the Soviet Union? 

Natasha's hand clenched, seeing his disbelief. She too was struggling. "Rogers and Carter...they're just...here..." 

"That doesn't that count for anything?" 

"No," Natasha responded, unblinking, her hand clenching. "Not anymore." 

Because she found out what Melina Vostkoff and Ivan Petrovitch had done to her, Clint knew. They were there for her and they let her down. But there was something else going on with Peggy and Steve. Clint could see it in her eyes. 

"What are you so afraid of?" Clint finally asked. 

Natasha's fist clenched. "Get out." 

"Nat-" 

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Natasha screamed in a loop. It was the only thing her mind knew how to say anymore. She started hitting his chest and pulling him towards the front door. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" 

Before Clint could blink, he found her front door slammed in front of his face. 

!"!

_Knock! Knock!_

Natasha's eyes snapped open. She held her pillow tightly to her head, trying to drown out the noise. Please, be quiet, she quietly prayed. However, the pounding on her front door only grew louder. In a rage, Natasha kicked off her blankets and grabbed the gun on her nightstand. The redhead was in a simple pair of shorts and loose tank top, but she didn't care - she threw her front door open like she was the queen of the world. 

"What!?" she shrieked, waving her gun in the air like a mad woman. "What the hell do you want!?" 

Natasha probably woke up a few of her neighbors, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. 

"Good to see you too, Romanoff." 

Natasha blinked in surprise. Long brown hair. Pale skin. Two inches shy of six feet. A single pistol strapped to a belted waist. A voice that made Natasha want to cave in her skull. Maria Hill, the Commander of SHIELD, was the one that stood in front of her. She donned a cloth bag around her shoulders and looked rather confused. 

"Fuck," Natasha muttered, lowering her weapon. "Sorry, Hill. I thought you were someone else." 

"Who?" the Commander questioned, eyeing Natasha's gun warily. She wasn't angry though. If anything, she appeared rather amused that someone as well put together as Natasha could crumble once in a while. 

_Clint._

_Bobbi._

_Fury._

_My...parents._

Natasha sighed. "I don't even know." She stepped to the side. "Come in." 

Maria walked into her apartment, looking around. It was complete, utter destruction. Chairs were thrown across the living room, the television was smashed, and random objects were clearly swiped off their resting places in a rage. If Maria was worried, however, she didn't say anything. 

"What's going on?" Natasha questioned. 

"We have a mission for you." 

For the first time in a while, Natasha felt genuinely relieved. "Good to hear," she said. "I need to get away for a little while, anyway. What is it?" 

Suddenly, the woman's eyes were filled with mischief that Natasha didn't like at all. Hill then went through her bag and pulled out several of the skimpiest lingerie outfits Natasha has ever seen. A camera then followed. 

Hill's brown eyes twinkled. "Are you familiar with Tony Stark?" She dangled the lingerie in front of Natasha with amusement. 

"Hell no!" 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three: One Year Later**

On a dark night, the only light illuminating the sky was a blue helicopter hovering over a SHIELD facility. Dozens of helicopters and planes were flying off with personnel and their belongings. After a runway was cleared, the helicopter landed. Hopping off the helicopter, Fury and Hill are immediately met by Agent Phil Coulson, whom was flanked by the young archer Kate Bishop and level-7 SHIELD agent Bobbi Morse.

“How bad is it?” Fury questioned.

“That’s the problem, sir,” Coulson said. “We don’t know.”

“Have we received any message from Thor?” Maybe, him and his mystical friends knew something about this.

Coulson looked glum. “No.”

Fury grit his teeth. _Problem_ , he thought. 

“And the evacuation?” Hill questioned.

“Our teams are covering it,” Kate responded. “All of the most essential personnel and data have already been escorted off the facility.”

Hill opened her mouth to respond when-

“Except the tesseract,” Fury said.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “If you have an idea how to move it safely, then by all means do tell me?”

Beside her, Bobbi cocked a smile. She knew she liked the girl. She had protested when Clint stated his intentions to bring his young trainee with him to such a highly classified – and dangerous – facility, but she has proven herself useful. Bobbi only hoped that Kate wouldn’t have to prove her abilities on the battlefield. She had a very, very bad feeling about this situation.

Fury looked startled for a moment. “I wasn’t-” He shook his head. “Take me to it.”

Coulson merely nodded and headed for the facility. Bobbi and Kate dropped behind the director and deputy director, now obligated to protect the new highest members of SHIELD in their vicinity. Once entering, they were bombarded with the sight of technicians fleeing with their datapads and other essentials. Everyone - whether young or old, or inexperienced or experienced - looked panicked. 

“Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson explained, as the group calmly walked past the caos.

“NASA didn’t authorize Selvig to test phase,” Fury pointed out.

“He wasn’t testing it,” Coulson countered. “He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous advancement.”

Hill was the one that finally asked the important question, “It turned itself on?”

Fury glanced at Hill, frowning. “What are the energy levels?” he asked Phil.

“Climbing. When Selvig couldn’t shut it down, we ordered evac.”

“How long to get everyone out?”

“Campus should be clear in the next half hour,” Phil said, not looking too happy about the prospect. Judging the increased shaking of the ground beneath them, this SHIELD facility didn’t have so much as ten minutes.

Fury felt that way too. “Do better.”

The group of SHIELD agents walk deep into an underground tunnel, less and less people around.

“Sir, evacuation may be futile,” Hill warned.

“We should tell them to go back to sleep?” Fury snarked.

Hill bit her tongue. “If we can’t control the Tesseract’s energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance.”

“I need you to make sure Phase 2 prototypes are shipped out.”

Behind them, Kate nearly halted in confusion. “Phase 2?” she mouthed to Bobbi. Bobbi, however, merely shrugged. Although at a Level 7 clearance (3 higher than Kate), Bobbi too thought that SHIELD was merely here to handle the tesseract. The phrase “phase 2” meant nothing to her – until now.

Hill blinked. “Sir, is that really a priority right now?”

“Until such a time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on,” Fury declared. “Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase 2 on a truck and gone.”

Hill took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” She began to head off, when she noticed Kate and Bobbi had moved off their line with Fury to guard her. “Not you guys,” she ordered, glancing worriedly at Fury. They were suspicious. That was a problem. She looked at nearby agents with a lotus flower signs on their shoulder pads. “With me.”

Nick Fury and Agent Phil Coulson enter the radiation facility housing the Tesseract, the area cluttered with machines and people leaving. Fury, however, stays focused on the one man that remains in place.

“Talk to me,” he demands.

Dr. Erik Selvig appears from behind a CS machine, concern etched across his face. The tesseract is glowing unusually brighter and a flare of blue shoots out from it, hitting things at random. “Director,” he nearly shrieks, dodging out of the way of a flare. Behind him, a table gets hit and goes flying.

“Is there anything we know for certain?”

“Well the Tesseract is certainly misbehaving,” Selvig said.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Fury snapped, looking an awful lot like Maria Hill.

Selvig smiled, a nervous one at that. “No, it’s not funny at all,” he responded, glancing down at his computer’s readings. “The Tesseract is not only active, she’s…misbehaving.” The scientist didn't know how else to explain it. 

“How soon can you pull the plug?”

The scientist nearly laughed. “She’s an energy source, director,” he explained. “If we turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level…”

Fury held up his hand. “We’ve prepared for this, doctor; harnessing energy from space.”

“We don’t have the harness. Our calculations are far from complete,” Selvig warned. “Now she’s throwing off interference, radiation. Nothing harmful, low levels of gamma radiation.”

Fury looked thoughtful. “That can be harmful. Where’s Barton?”

Selvig raised an eyebrow, going back to his readings. “That Hawk? Up in his nest, as usual.”

On a platform dozens of feet above, a blond man in his late thirties leaned on the railing, dressed in his black tactical gear. His hardened blue eyes scanned over the facility, looking for any sign of trouble from the agents.

Fury attempts to call Barton on his earpiece. “Agent Barton, report.”

All he hears is static.

Fury frowned and tried again.

Mere static once more.

“It’s not a lot of radiation,” Selvig explained in an instant, seeing Fury’s irritation, “but it is interfering with radio transmissions.”

Fury went with the old-fashioned method: “Barton, get your ass down here!” he shouted.

Upon hearing Fury’s voice, Clint quickly rappelled down from the platform, landing like a gymnast during the Olympics. The two SHIELD operatives walk around the bottom of the facility in a discreet manner, for everyone was suspect.

“I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things,” Fury muttered, eyeing Selvig suspiciously.

Clint shrugged. “Well, I see better from a distance.”

“Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off?” Fury questioned.

On the other side of the facility, a panicked NASA scientist rushed over to Dr. Selvig. “Doctor, it’s spiking again!” he exclaimed.

Fury and Barton exchanged worried looks.

“No one’s come or gone,” Clint said. “The oven is clean. No contacts, no I.M.’s. If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn’t at this end.”

Now that had Nick Fury’s mind reeling. “This end?”

Clint looked over at Bobbi and Kate, who stood way too close to the Tesseract for his liking. They may be guarding the scientists, but this situation is getting dangerous. “Yeah,” he said, trying to signal over at Bobbi and Kate for them to move. To his annoyance, one of Selvig’s assistants had their attention. “The cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right? Doors open from both sides.”

Dr. Erik Selvig types on his keyboard and the monitor flashes. Suddenly, the Tesseract thunders and shakes the entire facility. Both Agent Coulson nearby, and Maria Hill topside, feel the tremors. The cube glows brighter and emits a ring of light, and builds like a beam, similar to the Bifrost bridge seen during Thor’s time on Earth. The power hits the edge of the platform, and begins to form a vortex, which becomes a portal. Space appears through the portal, the blue energy surging around it.

Bobbi’s eyes widened. “Kate!” she shrieked, jumping in front of the archer just in time for a giant gust of blue energy to emerge from the portal.

The gust forced everyone back. Bobbi, managing to wrap herself in front of Kate, took the brunt of the force and was flung forcefully head-first into one of Selvig’s large metallic machines. She slid unconscious to the ground. Kate, meanwhile, slid underneath the machine; the machine's legs falling and trapping her own lower body underneath it. As much as she tried, Kate couldn’t hold back her pained scream to the other agents.The machine weighed well over 300 pounds. 

But no one paid attention to the young SHIELD agent. No, their attention was completely on the active tesseract. The blue cloud had shot to the ceiling, and the portal on the platform opened up as Loki, the Nordic god of mischief, stepped through. The portal vanished, and Loki grinned at everyone, holding his golden spear. Seeing everyone, however, he frowned. Armed agents were rushing into the facility at an alarming rate.

“Sir, please put down the spear,” Fury spoke. 

Loki responded by firing a blast of blue energy from his spear, while Barton narrowly tackled Fury out of the way. Everyone fired their guns at Loki, but the bullets deflected effortlessly off of him. Loki immediately took down everyone shooting at him easily, with knives and energy blasts from his scepter. He paused, grinning, and looked around to see who would attack him next. Barton attempted to attack him next, but Loki merely grabbed his wrist, disarming him.

Panic shot through Kate. “Over here!” she shrieked at a group of agents who weren’t dumb enough to shoot at a god.

Around half a dozen of them rushed over to lift the machine off her.

But it was too late.

“You have heart,” Loki complimented Clint.

The god had placed the tip of his spear against Clint’s chest. His eyes widened in surprise, and then they began to glow black. He stopped resisting. Loki then began to control other agents around him too, turning them into his own personal monkeys. While Loki was doing this, Fury attempted to sneak up and grab the Tesseract. He placed it in a secured briefcase and turned away, attempting to sneak out before anyone noticed.

“Please, don’t,” Loki suddenly said, noticing. “I still need that.”

Fury paused. “This doesn’t have to get any messier.”

Loki scoffed. “Of course, it does. I’ve come too far for anything else. I am Loki of Asgard, and I’m burdened with glorious purpose.”

“Loki?” Selvig said. “Brother of Thor?”

No one could miss the flash of irritation across the black-haired man’s face.

Many yards away, six men grunted as they worked together in attempt to lift one of Selvig’s machines off the fallen Agent Bishop.

“Hurry!” Kate cried, panic overtaking her.

“This is heavier than it looks!” one of the men snapped, their face red with exhaustion. He sighed and dropped the weight gently to the ground, the others following his lead. “On three, alright?”

Nods.

The man took a deep breath. “One,” he said. He bent down. “Two,” he said. He put his arms onto the machine. “Three!” And he and his team lifted.

Slowly, the machine was lifted high enough for Kate to free her legs. Kate launched up onto her feet, shaking violently. The men quickly dropped the machine, sighing in relief. Quickly, however, the situation came back to them and a group rushed over to check on Bobbi, while another went up to Kate.

“Are you alright?”

No, Kate was far from alright. Everyone around her was dying or falling under the control of Loki. On top of that, she was sure her legs had a few cracks in its bones. No, Kate was not alright – but she had a job to do.

“Get Agent Morse out of here!” Kate ordered.

One of the men picked Bobbi up, her head dangling from his arms. The remaining men flanked him.

“What about you?” one of the agents asked.

But Kate was already running – awkwardly, but running.

“I have to keep the director from committing suicide-by-crazy-god!”

From the vacuum chamber ceiling, the Tesseract's energy cloud rapidly builds into what may be an implosion.

“Sir, Director Fury is stalling,” Clint told Loki. “This place is about to blow. Drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Fury didn’t bother denying it. “Like the Pharaohs of Odin.”

Selvig walked up to Loki. “He's right,” the scientist said. “The portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Loki pursed his lips. “Well then.”

Loki looked over at Clint, who nodded and took out his gun to shoot Fury. Before he could, however, Kate jumped out of her hiding place and launched an arrow in his direction. Clint and the other mind-controlled SHIELD agents jumped back, just as the arrow exploded.

“Let’s go!” Kate shouted.

Fury quickly ran towards the exit, Kate launching two more exploding arrows to cover their tracks.

Once the director was behind the heavy metal doors, Kate shot an arrow on each end of the door. An electromagnet field appeared, connecting the two arrows in front of the door. Kate then quickly slammed the doors shut; a sensor scanning Kate’s eyes, the locks quickly put themselves into place.

“That’s not going to hold them for long!” Kate said, hearing her arrows behind the door exploding.

“Then what the hell did we pay 200 million dollars for!?”

Kate flung her free hand up in frustration. “I’m sorry – who the fuck expects a Norse god to fly out of a space portal!?”

Fury opened his mouth, when the sound of the metal doors being blasted reached their ears.

“We need to get out of here now!” he said, clutching the case tighter to his chest.

Kate nodded and launched another set of arrows to create one more electromagnetic field. She seriously doubted it would hold off a god and Clint for long; all she and Fury needed was a few extra moments. But the moment Kate turned around, she came face-to-face with Loki, Fury on the ground with a knife in his chest and the Tesseract-case fell beside him.

“Tsk. Tsk. You mortals are so easy to fool,” Loki mocked.

Kate quickly grabbed her knife and swung it at the god. The sharp blade entered just below his collar bone, blood dripping from the wound. Kate couldn’t believe it – and Loki couldn’t either, judging by the enraged look on his face. Before Kate could so much as blink, Loki had her by her throat and slammed her against the wall. With his free hand, he blasted the doors open with his scepter.

“Argh!” Kate grunted, fighting against the god with all her wrath.

But it was no use. Loki was far too strong.

“Curious,” the god suddenly said, staring into her blue eyes. “Most curious.”

Kate could barely comprehend his words; her vision was beginning to blur, and a soft ringing in her ears appeared.

Loki turned to the group of SHIELD operatives standing by the door. “Kill her, Barton,” he ordered. He looked back at Kate with a sadistic smile. “Now.”

Clint nodded, walking up to Kate with a gun in hand.

Kate struggled for dear life. “No!” she gasped.

Loki squeezed her neck a bit harder.

Kate’s struggle died down, her face starting to turn blue. “Clint...please…” she managed to choke out.

It did no good. The Clint Barton she knew was no longer there. The darkness had overtaken him and made him one with Loki. With a mere scoff, Agent Barton lifted his gun and fired. Loki let go, and Kate Bishop fell motionlessly to the ground, drench in her own blood.

!"!

In the abandoned outskirts of St Petersburg, Russia a gray, crumbling building lied in its center. It was a warehouse, next to a series of unfished railroad tracks under construction. Inside the building was Russian General Georgi Luchkov, his two Chechen thugs with Bersa handguns in their grasps, and a red-headed Russian woman tied to a chair. Natasha donned a short black dress that showed off all her curves. As the taller thug repeatedly hit the assassin, however, drips of her blood fell onto the dress.

General Luchkov sighed, eyeing Natasha's chest. “<This is not how I wanted the evening to go>," he said in Russian, his Siberian upbringing coming out in his accent. 

Natasha bit back her disgust. “<I know how you wanted this evening to go. Believe me, this is better>."

The elder man eyed Natasha lustfully. “<A shame>." 

_For you perhaps._

Natasha flashed her signature half-smirk. Her lip was cut and she had a bad bruise just below her right eye, but, even then, no one could deny her beauty.

Luchkov’s smile slowly disappeared and he nodded at the man who was hitting her earlier. The tall man took the hint and pushed Natasha’s chair back, tilting it over the edge of a several story drop. Natasha looked down, swallowing, pretending to give them the fear they so desperately want. Who did they think they were dealing with? A mere cartel higher? She was the Black Widow! The best assassin in the world! 

“<I want to know why you killed Valentin>." 

“<He got in my way>,” Natasha said, simply. Her head tilted mockingly, her long red locks falling to the side.

Blue eyes darkened. “<A true traitor to your country>."

Natasha crunched her eyes. "<I think it's the other way around>." She was uncomfortable with just how much she meant those words. 

Luchkov shook his head in utter disgust. “<You and Marina both>." 

He walked over to the table not too far away, staring down at a table filled with tools Natasha was all too familiar with. But that’s not what Natasha was thinking about.

Marina? Marina Olev? The young dark-haired goddess that was her Black Widow colleague? Natasha felt a strange stirring in her chest. She thought…she thought Marina was dead. She remembers her blood! All the blood that covered Natasha’s body for days! Natasha still shivered at the memory of holding Marina's pale hand as fire threatened to burn her. How could Marina possibly be alive? Natasha had killed her...hadn't she? 

Remembering where she was, Natasha quickly tried to maintain her cover. “<Marina? I thought she was the one in charge here>." 

The Russian man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Marina?” He and his goons laughed in unison, and Natasha felt her chair slowly go down back to its four legs. Luchkov’s hands lingered over the various torture tools. “<Your reputation is quite a progression. The famous Black Widow. Nothing but a pretty face>." 

Natasha smiled. “<You really think I’m pretty>?" 

Luchkov growled, “<I should kill you now - save my colleagues the trouble of dealing with you again>." 

Fuck.

Natasha had been hit by those repeatedly when she first joined SHIELD and Bobbi attempted to assassinate her. She may be stronger than the average person, but even she would rather not experience that sensation ever again. 

"<Why don't you>?" Natasha asked sweetly, taunting him. 

Luchkov growled and took a step towards her, when-

A phone rang and the nerdy-looking thug picked up his phone in confusion.

“Ya?” he said. His eyes widened almost immediately. He brought the phone to Luchkov. “It’s for you.”

Luchkov growled and took the phone. “Who the hell is-?”

Natasha heard the echoes of Agent Coulson’s voice. “You’re at 114 Solenski Plaza, 3rd floor. We have and F22 exactly 8 miles out. Put the woman on the phone or I will blow up the block before you can make the lobby.”

The general’s eyes widened, and he quickly placed the phone by Natasha’s ear, the redhead putting her head to the side to keep it in place.

“What?” Natasha said.

“We need you to come in,” Coulson said.

“Are you kidding!? I’m working!”

Just a few more minutes, Natasha thought, and she’ll be able to find out more about Yelena.

“This takes precedence.”

Oh, please. “I’m in the middle of an interrogation with this moron giving me everything.”

Luchkov frowned. “I don’t give everything.”

Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him. “Look, you can’t pull me out of this right now.”

“Natasha,” Coulson said, softly. “Barton’s been compromised.”

Natasha sighed. Marina was going to have to wait. 

“Let me put you on hold,” Natasha said, nodding at Luchkov.

When Luchkov attempted to grab the phone, Natasha slammed her knee into his groin and headbutt him as hard as she could. His goons scrambled to shoot her. In an instant, Natasha used her strength to snap the ropes that bound her. She darted forward and body-slammed the tall goon to the ground, his gun flying in the air before sliding on the ground several feet away. Natasha quickly brought up her foot and knocked out the man. She rolled out of the way as the other Chechen attempted to shoot her. When his bullets ran out, Natasha flipped onto her feet and launched the hidden knife in her bra at the remaining man. He fell to the ground, screaming from the pain in his chest.

“Sorry,” Natasha said, nonchalantly.

She focused her attention on the fleeing Luchkov. She caught up with him in less than 5 seconds. Grabbing him by his collar, the man panicked when he realized that her super-strength surpassed his will. Natasha then threw the man over her shoulder and walked towards where he held her mere moments ago. Ignoring the man’s screams, Natasha wrapped the man’s legs in a chain and threw him down the hole he threatened to throw her. He dangled from the ceiling, grunting in pain.

Natasha shook her head and grabbed her heels and the fallen phone. “Where’s Barton now?”

“We don’t know.”

Natasha frowned. “But he’s alive?”

“We believe so.”

At least, there was that.

“What Morse and Bishop?” she asked. "They were with him as well, right?" 

There was a pause. 

Not good.

“I’ll brief you when you get back,” Coulson said, walking around the subject. “But first we need you to talk to the big guy.”

Natasha smiled into the phone. “Come on, Coulson. You know Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me.”

She dealt with him just after her parents were discovered, masquerading as his secretary while he attempted to fix the damage his ego caused to the reputation of Iron Man. They developed a love-hate relationship during her time in his company. Natasha would even go so far as to say that they were friends now; Tony and her still messaging each other to check in. Tony, despite his flaws, was a good partner, Natasha had to admit - and a good man. 

“Oh, no,” Coulson objected. “I got Stark. You get the big guy.”

Before Natasha could object, Coulson disconnected the line.

“<Fuck>," Natasha groaned.

!"!

By the time Natasha lands the craft on Fury’s personal helicarrier, she had ten things on her mind. Three of those things were Clint. Where was he? How the hell did he let himself get mind-controlled by a Norse god? And how was she going to get him back? Number four: how was she going to deal with Morse in the meantime? Another two things involved Bruce Banner, because you don’t get stuck in flying metal object with a giant green rage monster without worrying. Another three involved her parents, whom Fury would undoubtedly go to for aid. And then there was Marina. No matter how much Natasha tried, she couldn’t get the woman out of her head.

So yeah, Natasha’s mind was in a million places.

At least, that’s what she told herself when she fell on her ass after hitting a stone wall.

“Come on," Natasha groaned to herself, rubbing her throbbing head. She thanked the gods she changed into a pair of jeans and a leather jacket after convincing Bruce to come with her. In her dress, that would have been one awkward fall.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I-”

Above her, Steve Rogers quieted. "Agent Romanoff, right?" 

Fuck. The one person she worked so hard not to see. 

Natasha inclined her head. "Captain Rogers," she greeted, ignoring his attempts to help her. She bit her tongue. "Agent Carter." 

Natasha looked them over. Both donned outfits that screamed "I'm from the WW1 era and proud". It would have made Natasha smile had they not looked absolutely ridiculous. She knew the time adjustment was strange, but they could at least try to adjust to modernity. Just as she's attempted to adjust to life in the United States under the scornful eyes of SHIELD. 

"It's good to see you again, Agent Romanoff," Peggy greeted. "How've you been?" 

Natasha squirmed uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" 

Peggy shrugged. "Screw normality." 

Natasha's eyebrows shot up. "Never thought I'd hear you come close to cursing." 

"Then you certainly haven't heard me in battle," Peggy smirked. My smirk, Natasha thought at the sight. At first sight, Natasha looked absolutely nothing like Peggy or Steve - but a closer glance reveals just how much Natasha was cloned after Peggy. It should have disturbed her, but Natasha felt strangely comforted by the revelation. 

Natasha huffed. "I'll bet," she half-laughed. "You brits are something else." 

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "Have much experience in England, do you?" 

Natasha frowned. "Something like that..." 

There was no way in hell Natasha was going to admit to a proud Englishwoman that she was sent to the UK on multiple occasions to kill Soviet defectors and spy on high-ranking members of the military. Some things were better left unsaid - especially when said country was still attempting to figure out who did the deed. But something about the way that Peggy was looking at her made Natasha believe that she already knew. Whether it was Natasha's past or present, Peggy certainly knew. 

Thankfully, an incoming voice took Peggy's attention off of her. 

"Natasha!" Coulson called out, briefly nodding at the infamous super soldiers beside the redhead. 

"Coulson." 

"I need your report on the situation in Russia."

Natasha nodded and followed Coulson to a private corner of the quinjet's landing platform to brief him. 

It was then that Steve noticed something by one of the quinjets. There was a dark-haired man outside one of its platforms. If Steve and Peggy were out of place, this guy was from another millennium. He was anxiously looking around as if he were waiting or looking for someone. Glancing at Natasha, Steve realized that this was the scientist Coulson said Natasha went off to retrieve. The very special scientist. He clearly had no idea what to do.

Seeing that Natasha was distracted and not wanting to fluster him farther, Steve called out, “Dr. Banner!”

The tanned man turned around, surprise on his face. “Captain,” he said, walking over to hesitantly shake Steve’s hand. “Mrs. Brittania.”

Peggy nodded at him.

“They say you can find the cube,” Steve said.

Bruce eyed Coulson and Natasha. “Is that the only thing they say?”

Steve and Peggy exchanged saddened looks.

“The only thing we care about,” Steve assured the man.

He looked surprised at his genuineness. “This must be strange for you guys,” Bruce said, after a beat. “All of this.”

Steve smirked at the slight smile on Peggy’s face. “Actually, it’s kind of familiar.”

Bruce looked intrigued.

A few feet away, Natasha continued on with briefing Coulson about her mission. She told him about General Luchkov and his connections to the growing Black Widow and Winter Soldier programs. She told him about how the KGB were preparing to expand their Red Guardian program as well. Coulson seemed to take in every little detail, every ounce of her words – especially her mentions of brainwashing. It made Natasha suspicious - of him and Fury. Something about their strange interactions with her always rubbed her the wrong way. And it gave Natasha the feeling that Fury ordered Coulson to watch her for something. Of what, Natasha didn’t know. She’d find out, though. Natasha Romanoff doesn't lose.

Suddenly Natasha heard a familiar beep coming from the commlink in her ear.

Excusing herself from Coulson, Natasha pressed down on it and spoke, “What is it?”

“Bobbi is awake,” came Commander Hill's voice. 

Natasha scoffed. "And this concerns me how?" 

"She's not talking to anyone. Your Clint's friend. Please...just try." 

Natasha sighed. America has truly turned her into such a pushover. 

“I’ll be down in a minute," she promised. 

“Hurry,” Hill requested, cutting off the line.

With a heavy sigh, Natasha moved to make her way to the medical wing. She pretended not to feel Peggy's hard eyes following her movements. 

!"!

In a private room, a blonde woman laid on a cushioned metal bed. She donned a light medical robe with garbs tightly wrapped around her head. The woman maintained a neutral face, but a trained eye could see that she was in pain. That’s why the technician woman above her, a young Arab woman, injected a light dosage of oxycodone in her arm. “You’ll be okay,” the Arab informed, finishing up by checking the many machines connected to her patient. SHIELD’s technology was highly advanced; at this point, even a shot to the carotid artery could be healed within hours.

“Thanks,” Bobbi murmured.

The technician nodded. “Call me if you need anything else,” she said, leaving the room.

In the shadowy corner, Natasha stood up and sat on the edge of Bobbi's bed. They stared at each other for a while, neither knowing how to proceed with this interaction. They haven't exactly been friendly with one another, after all. But Bobbi was in pain. And Natasha wasn't so spiteful as to be cruel when someone was healing.

“How are you feeling?” Natasha eventually asked. That wasn't an awkward question, right?

Bobbi huffed, a sad smile on her face. "Considering it's just a bad concussion...pretty good." 

Natasha gave her a pointed look. “How are you really feeling?” she asked. Natasha didn’t like bullshitters. Hiding your emotions was one thing - but flat out lying about them was another. 

To her surprise, Bobbi gave in quickly. “Like hell,” the assassin admitted.

Natasha merely nodded, waiting for Bobbi to continue. 

"How's Kate doing?" Bobbi questioned, swallowing nervously. The fact that it was Natasha here and not Kate made Bobbi's heart pound with fear. 

Natasha looked down, and Bobbi felt her worst suspicions come true. "Bad," the redhead admit. "Really bad. Clint shot her in the head. Doctors put her in a medically-induced coma to help with the swelling...but it's not looking good." 

Bobbi began to cry. Natasha shifted uncomfortably. She couldn't blame the woman. Her husband was brainwashed by a Norse god and her daughter in all but name was nearly killed by him because of it - anyone would break down in such a situation. But the site of the normally spiteful woman breaking down was not a pleasant one. 

Did Clint feel the same way about Natasha crying last year? 

Oh, well. 

Natasha reached out to comfort her. "Bobbi-" 

"Get the fuck away from me!" she hissed, slapping Natasha's hand away. 

"Look, Bobbi - I know what you think of me," Natasha said. "But I just want to help them too." 

Bobbi wiped away the tears with her sleeve. "Help?" she snarled, tears still falling. "You don't help people. You bring pain. You bring darkness. That's all you've ever done." 

Natasha shifted. She knew Bobbi was hurting right now, but Natasha was struggling to let the rage consume her. "Clint would disagree with you." 

Bobbi smiled bitterly. "You may have him fooled. But I know the real you. As soon as SHIELD lets its guard down...you'll strike. And I'm not going to let that happen." 

Natasha's hand clenched. "I understand that you're in pain right now. Believe me when I say I get it, but-" 

"Don't," Bobbi growled, "ever pretend that you could possibly understand what I'm going through right now. You know nothing about pain." 

_I know the pain of watching my husband get murdered in front of me._

_I know the pain of getting beaten half-to-death while 9 months pregnant._

_I know the pain of birthing a stillborn daughter._

Natasha wanted to scream it all to the bitch that Clint was forced to call a wife. But that would be too easy. No, Bobbi needed a much more...gentle touch. 

"Well you won't have to worry about me anymore," Natasha said, gently resting her forehead against Bobbi's. She caressed the other woman's cheek, enjoying the way blue eyes flashed in fear. "Because the next time I see you....it will be to put a bullet in your head." Natasha then kissed Bobbi's cheek, lips pulling away to whisper in the woman's ear, "I promise." 

!"!

In the helicarrier bridge, Steve stood next to Agent Coulson, looking around in amazement. He definitely owed Fury 10 bucks. Landing on a giant boat with planes, missiles, and thousands of men and women was one; but now the giant boat was flying, invisible in the sky. This place was like nothing he’s ever seen before. The world really was getting weirder every year.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” Coulson said.

Steve inwardly smiled. “No, no. It's fine,” he said.

“They’re vintage,” Peggy teased, walking up with Agent Hill.

She herself had already signed Coulson’s cards after he and his crew pick them up from New York. However, Coulson was yet to ask Steve, nerves taking over while talking to his childhood idol. It was cute, Peggy thought, seeing the child come out in such a sweet way in men.

“The best on the market,” Coulson confirmed, a toothy grin on his face.

Steve smiled. “So how was your tour?”

“Amazing,” Peggy said. “So much has happened since we went down. I wish we had been there to oversee it.”

“You’re here now,” Hill said. “That’s what's important.”

Peggy smiled at her. “I suppose that’s true. Thank you.”

“Hey, anything for the world's first superheroes." 

Peggy flushed slightly. "I'd hardly call Steve and I superheroes." 

Hill slapped her shoulder. "Tell that to the rest of the world." 

There wasn’t a conversation after that. Steve, Peggy, Coulson, and Hill just leaned against the wall, watching as several dozen agents worked at their monitors attempting to locate Loki and the agents he now controlled. It was strange to them, not being part of the fight – but they knew their time in the fight would soon come.

“We got a hit!” an agent suddenly called out.

Fury, at his own area of the bridge, dashed towards the agent. “How much?”

“Sixty-seven percent match,” Agent Jasper Sitwell said. He clicked a few more buttons. “Wait! Crossmatch! Seventy-nine percent!”

“Location?” the Director asked.

“Stuttgart, Germany,” Sitwell responded. “28, Konighstrasse.” He looked over the image that popped up on the screen with a frown. “He’s not exactly hiding.”

Fury turned to Steve and Peggy. “You guys are up,” he said.

They nodded but soon realized that Fury was looking behind them too. There stood Agent Romanoff in a familiar pair of tight blue jeans, a red shirt, and a black leather jacket. Two guns were strapped to her utility belt - along with a Russianized version of Peggy and Steve's shields on her back. She was ready for battle. And clearly very pissed. 

"Good to hear," Natasha muttered to him. "Carter, Rogers, let's go." 

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Agent Romanoff?" 

Natasha scoffed. "I'm fine. But if Morse comes near me, I'll put a bullet in her head. I'm done trying with her." She looked back at the stunned couple again. "Let's go!"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!


End file.
